


the greatest pleasure (mine)

by wonderwanda



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Actual angel Ada Cackle, Actual disaster Hecate Hardbroom, Angst, Baby!Fic, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 07:54:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13677477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderwanda/pseuds/wonderwanda
Summary: A heartbroken Hecate finds solace in Ada’s company during hazy summer afternoons.





	the greatest pleasure (mine)

**Author's Note:**

> I had a bit of a strange concept that I wanted to see if I could make work—and I’m not entirely sure that it does. Gutsandglitter was kind enough to beta this, and encouraged me to post it. 
> 
> I started this before Family Tree aired, so I wasn’t aware of matrilineal canon. Forgive me!

. before .

  
She sits at the edge of the bed, resting her aching feet on the ground. She is grateful for this bed. She is grateful for this ground, this room. Her room. She didn’t feel the need to discuss matters with her superior immediately, figuring she’d put it off as long as possible. It was none of anyone’s business, after all. She’d well have dealt with this by now if her partner hadn’t been...non-magical. Unfortunately this fact had greatly complicated things. Though she’s certain she’s not the first to birth a halfling, she can’t help but feel like it.

It’s not a secret for long. _“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “I was...embarrassed.” “Let me know if you need anything.”_

She bites her lip. Not us, not the school, this community of magical folk—but ME. Let ME know. She blinks back tears (bloody hormones), thanks her headmistress, and leaves.

*

Potions are out, so she’s relieved to find a special blend of tea with a handwritten note in front of her door.

_For bouts of nausea. —A.C._

She deliberates at the biscuit tin for an extra moment before deciding on two. Her work attire hangs behind the door, she waves her hand, slightly extending the length of her belt. The twitch of her wrist is accompanied by a deep, defeated sigh. She figures the only reprieve is that at least her irresponsibility is delicious; and proceeds to take a bite of her second biscuit.

Regret isn’t the first word she would use. In the top five maybe, but definitely not the first. After all, she’d known her taste for mulled wine before entering the establishment, and due to recent heartbreak caused by a certain fuschia clad femme fatale, she’d purposely neglected her anti-intoxicant powder. If anything, this disaster was very well deserved. She let herself be wooed by his flame-toned locks. Drunkenly laughing with each thrust because _that will show her._ Hecate can’t even remember if she orgasmed. How foolish.

*

She resorts to summoning things from her seat, and sending her familiar to collect supplies from the grounds. Her appearance altering spell lasts long enough for one class session, so she sits between each one giving herself barely enough chance to exhale before transforming back to her previous slender self.

Late in the day after her fifth hour of standing, she towers before a group of second years. The last thing she remembers is grimacing amongst the confused faces of her students. _Invisibility is child’s play. You’re all children. I don’t understand how this is difficult!_

She awakens on the floor, with a warm hand at her temple.

“Come now Miss Hardbroom, let’s get you to your quarters.”

Her cheeks flush as she’s helped to her feet. Hecate unleashes a horrifying glare towards the students, praying that they’ll think she’s more enraged than embarrassed. She can tell her appearance shifting spell is about to wear off, so she doesn’t fight being lead out of the classroom.

“Hecate, I’m insisting you take some time off. Give your body a chance to rest from being altered every day.”

“Once the term has concluded, I shall do so. Final exams are in two weeks, and I plan to administer them myself.”

“If you insist.” The headmistress places a hand on her arm. “But I cannot allow you to cloak yourself anymore. Continued usage of such a spell is extremely dangerous, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Hecate’s eyes remain locked on the ground—she is in fact, aware.

The following day she returns to the helm of her students, most of whom are wide-eyed and slack-jawed upon her arrival. Despite the distraction, she appreciates the ability to breathe again. A student raises their hand. She waits on them reluctantly, with pursed lips.

“What happened—“ before they can finish, she clasps her fingers to her palm, closing everyone’s mouth in the process.

“From now until exams, questions can be submitted in writing at the end of class. Is that clear?” As the girls nod, Hecate opens her hand. The class lets out a collective breath. “Good.”

*

For the rest of the term, Hecate pretends she doesn’t notice the tittering. Her keen hearing gets the better of her, as it usually does, and she vows after this mess has been properly dealt with no student will so much as breathe her name without prior approval. She dwells on the idea of what it means to ‘deal with things’ as the likelihood of her child having any semblance of magical ability is slim at best. Not to mention, she can’t comprehend being reminded of a momentary lapse in judgement every time her eyes opened. A non-magical baby would just drive the point home even further. Hecate wants more than anything to blame all of this on her broken heart, but knows better. At the end of the day, she forces herself to take responsibility for her poor decisions. She doesn’t intend to swear off love entirely, but she does vow to keep her priorities straight. Each bump in her stomach is a reminder to be faithful to that commitment.

The students’ performance on the final exam is a bit of a mixed bag. She debates running the tests through her correction enchantment, but decides to forgo it in favor of something else to think about. Some of the girls have excelled without the extra distraction, others seemed to have stumbled on the basics. Hecate even finds a mnemonic written incorrectly in the margins. She purses her lips, crossing off each incorrect phrase. Performance on the practical exam has been about the same. One minor explosion with the first years, but it was a common mistake. She’s less pleased when a fourth year accidentally knocked over a jar and sent a generation’s worth of tiny spiderlings scurrying about. Luckily, Hecate was able to suspend their movement and have the offender collect them all before anything else went wrong. The distraction took approximately five minutes. Agonizing for the student in question, but otherwise inconsequential for the rest of the class. Hecate knocked her score down an entire grade.

After two days of exams, Hecate decides she’ll slow down a bit over the summer holiday. She plans on perfecting a few articles for journal publication, and directing her energy toward things she’d previously been putting off.

As the days draw on, she finds it harder and harder to sleep through the night. A mixture of anxiety and lower back pain keep her awake. That, and the warm air of early June have made it damn-near impossible to relax at all. Despite resigning herself to her lightest nightclothes, she still wakes every few hours and readjusts herself.

One day, after a particularly rough evening of sleep, a letter arrives. Hecate hopes it’s from the office of the Intermediary of Magical and Non-Magical Affairs as they’d been in correspondence about how to set up an adoption with a non-magical family. Unfortunately, the envelope has the very distinct smell of expensive perfume. One she was intent on forgetting, eventually.

She doesn’t notice her superior behind her as she sets the letter ablaze without second thought. It disappears in seconds, followed by an elongated, vexed breath. Hecate wants to be in control of how long this she will allow this to hurt her, but she feels defeated. There is a hand on her shoulder.

“Join me for a cuppa?” Hecate wants to accept, her headmistress has been the only one to show her kindness through this entire ordeal, but she doesn’t want to be seen like this. Hecate hesitates before declining.

“No, thank you.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t a question.” Great, now on top of feeling miserable, she’s about to get fired.

The walk to Miss Cackle’s office is about as awkward as one would expect. Though for Hecate, even more so, as she’s doing everything in her power not to burst into tears.

The late afternoon haze streams through the window as the witches enter. Hecate hasn’t spent much time in her boss’ office, but doesn’t remember it to be as cozy and inviting.

“Please, have a seat.” Out of habit, Hecate pulls the chair out in front of the desk, noticing that her headmistress is heading over to the set of worn-in wingback chairs near the fireplace. She follows suit, confused. This isn’t at all how she’d expected to be fired. After adjusting her posture, she feels as though Miss Cackle hasn’t shifted her gaze since they entered and proceeds to stare at the floor with embarrassment.

“Hecate, I’m worried about you.”

“I’m sorry headmistress.”

“Please, Ada is perfectly acceptable.”

“I’ll pack my things.” By now, tears are inevitable. Hecate does her best to keep them to a minimum but by this point the rest of the day has been so backwards almost anything could happen and it wouldn’t surprise her.

“Is that what you think this is about?” Hecate tries to divert her attention from the floor to a space further below in an effort to bury herself. At this point, she’s convinced nothing could be of surprise...that is, until Ada’s perched before her chair, holding both of her hands. “Miss Hardbroom, you’re an invaluable asset to this institution. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were alright.”

Ada rises, chestnut waves hitting right at the shoulder, and goes to prepare tea for them both. With the absence, Hecate uses the opportunity to regain a bit of composure.

“Forgive me for being presumptuous,” she sets a cup and saucer on the end table, complete with two biscuits, “I kind of thought you might like some company but weren’t sure how to ask.”

Hecate does her best to stifle a smile. It seems as though every emotion she’s had recently wants to spring out through her eyes, and she’s decided there’d already been quite enough crying for one day.

“Thank you.” Ada takes the opportunity to smile for them both.

“Good—“

“I’m...not really one for pleasantries if you don’t mind.” It’s not entirely false, but Hecate regrets how brusque it sounds. Given the rest of the day, she’s willing to put a lot on the line to avoid another emotional outburst. It’s really unlike her anyway, and she doesn’t want to upset her company.

After awhile, Ada waits in a comfortable silence as Hecate takes a final sip. She offers a hand to Hecate, in an effort to ease her colleague’s posture upon standing. Neither witch unclasps as they walk to the door.

“Same time tomorrow, yes? Bring some reading if you’d like.”

Before opening the door, Hecate is awash with gratitude. They lock eyes momentarily—long enough for Ada to catch a glimmer of happiness. She takes this as an acceptance of her invitation.

*

They spend their sleepy summer afternoons together, curled up with books in front of a cool fire.

“A trick of my mother’s.” Ada brings them both a cup. “I couldn’t bare to stop lighting it, it makes the room feel so homey.”

Hecate’s nose is in the middle of a book on potion theory, but her interest piques immediately. It’s taken her this long, but her breath stops upon realizing that these afternoons in Ada’s office have been the most she’s felt at home since she was a girl.

“Something the matter?” Ada stops getting situated after noticing her colleague’s pause.

“Nothing, I apologize.” Hecate looks at her, convinced, like always, that this will be when Ada finally realizes that having her around is a bother.

“No need.” Ada, like always, dissolves Hecate’s anxiety with a calming smile.

Soon after, Hecate receives a letter from the Intermediary: they’ve found a family. Well, a woman. She’s relieved. Ada’s started sending books with her in the evenings after tea and she stays up impossibly late finishing each one. The only exception being Clarence Thistlebat’s novel-length diatribe about education theory.

“Oh gracious, I’m sorry. It was a gift. His ideas are so backwards.” Ada takes the book back, pulling one with a similar cover off of her shelf. “I meant to hand you this.”

She hands Hecate an old copy of _The Elemental Poetry_ by Willow Greyfeather.

“I do hope you enjoy this, it’s very dear to me.” Hecate thumbs through the pages, noticing handwritten annotations in almost every margin. She smiles at Ada.

“I look forward to it.”

Hecate sits up in bed, one hand on her swollen belly, the other rubbing the indent of Ada’s handwriting on each page. She feels guilty, as though she’s reading someone’s diary. Each poem an exaltation of gratitude to Greyfeather’s immediate surroundings. Hecate is touched. As with Willow, she finds there’s nothing too small for Ada’s love. She reads each parallel Ada’s drawn from Willow’s words to her own life.

 _Now I sing for thee_  
_because the greatest pleasure,_  
( _mine) is when_  
_your time is spent with me._

It’s the last page in the book. The only stanza without Ada’s accompaniment. Willow Greyfeather is in love with absolutely everything, but what brings her the most happiness is someone to share it with. Hecate is about to close the book when she notices something written on the back flap:

_The greatest joy is helping those in need, nothing else. Henceforth, I shall consider it my duty to offer my friendship to the companionless. I shall spread my gifts—_

She should have known she was just a project—that the only reason Ada cares for her at all is out of a sense of personal responsibility. Hecate has been so careful to avoid starting any kind of personal relationship with her colleagues, lest it be a repeat of the experience that lead her to her present predicament. She’s set three more letters ablaze this week.

After giving it more thought, Hecate decides that she’s had enough. She doesn’t even bother changing out of her night clothes before storming out of her room to find Ada. She grips the book so tightly that her knuckles are red before rapping at Ada’s door with impatience.

“Just a moment…” Ada puts her glasses on before answering. Upon opening the door, Hecate throws the book on the ground.          “Hecate—“

“Is that all I am to you? A charity case? Would you have even paid attention to me if I weren’t like this?” Hecate makes an exaggerated gesture. Ada is startled, but doesn’t waver in her effusive gravity.

“What do you mean?”

“That last bit of solipsistic rubbish in your book told me all I needed to know, Miss Cackle.”

“I wrote those notes when I was just a girl.” Ada guides her inside, latching the door behind. “The poems have stuck with me a long while. Many reminders to stop and smell the roses.”

Hecate is silent, gathering her courage before attempting to speak again.

“Would you still have invited me into your office if my life weren’t this utterly disastrous?”

“Of course.” Ada puts her hand on Hecate’s shoulder. “After all, we are the only two professors loony enough to stay in this big empty castle over the holiday.”

Hecate laughs though the inevitable spring of saltwater in her eyes. She feels so foolish having assumed anything at all.

“I should go, I’m sorry for my outburst.”

“You can stay...if you’d like.” The words fall out of Ada’s mouth before she can make sense of them. She’d been unsure of how to ask for weeks. Since they’d held hands to the doorway in her office, spending time with Hecate has all she’s been able to think about. She hadn’t quite intended on moving this fast, but her desires have been spoken, and she can’t unspeak them.

Hecate nods. She too has been wondering how to broach the subject. Devouring every bit of recommended reading only satiates her to a point. She feels foolish for overreacting, and again, Ada quells her anxiety.

“I would, yes.”

She follows Ada to bed. Their bodies soon entwine as though every word Willow Greyfeather had ever written was about them both.

. during .

Ada awakes in the quiet dawn to an otherwise empty bed. After a moment, the floorboards creak as she watches Hecate pace back and forth with very deliberate steps.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Can I help?”

“I’m afraid nothing’s been of use.” She stops at the dresser to steady her balance. Ada puts her glasses on, slides out of bed, and stands next to Hecate.

“How long has it been like this?”

“Couple of days.”

“Let me go get us some breakfast. It’ll help keep your strength up.” Hecate doesn’t have the strength to protest. Her body aches from top to bottom, and she could use a bite to eat. Ada gives her arm a gentle squeeze before leaving. After the door latches, Hecate let’s out an exhale she’d been holding for some time. She doesn’t have the heart to tell Ada she’s been contracting all morning. It’s nothing serious, and she knows that the day will be long. Hecate decides against saying anything because she’s not in the business of inconveniencing people. Especially a colleague. Especially a colleague who spent the previous evening combing fingers through her hair and kissing her like it’s the most important thing she’ll do in both of their lifetimes.

The pain eases as swiftly as it’d set in. Hecate makes her way over to the bed, sits down, and adjusts herself into a comfortable position. Just as she’s settled, Ada enters with toast and marmalade.

“How on earth…”

“I’ve a kitchen stash.”

They sit in bed together and enjoy their breakfast as the sun finds its way over the horizon and into Ada’s bedroom. After a long, comfortable silence, Ada rises.

“I have some business to attend to this morning, but I’ll be free after that.” She clasps her fingers together swiftly, changing clothes. “You may stay here and rest as long as you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

*

Hecate spends the rest of the morning pacing the same pattern around Ada’s room. She knows things will get worse, so she tries to turn it into a game. After every thirteen steps she stretches a different part of her body. Hecate finds that for awhile, this allows her to reach Ada’s bed frame just in time to steady herself through another wave. After she’s gotten into a steady rhythm, Hecate decides she’ll try and make the walk back to her room. Things have been predictable enough for the past hour, she just needs to make it through one...last…

“Hecate, are you alright?” She doesn’t notice Ada enter as she centers herself enough to get a stable grip on the bedpost. If she can just hold it together for a few more seconds...

A sharp exhale blows her cover.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Hecate walks out of her pacing pattern.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Is there anyone I should mirror?”

“I’ve already spoken with the intermediary, someone will be by this afternoon. They want to wait until I’m a bit further along before they send a midwife.”

“Forgive my speaking out of turn, but those girls are incompetent.”

“I’m afraid it’s the only choice I have if there’s a chance…” Hecate tries to contain herself. “How could I have been so stupid?”

Ada decides that she won’t address the issue any further.

“Come on then, let’s get you comfortable.”

They spend most of the afternoon in Ada’s bedroom. Hecate finds her voice calming, so Ada reads to her from every book on her shelves. The Ancient Witching Practice proves to be the most spirited read of the day. Ada postulates that certain techniques could stand to be expanded upon, while Hecate, between breaths, says she’s more in favor of proven methodology. Soon after the involved discussion comes to a close, the bed is drenched. Hecate is horrified. Of all the places for her waters to break! It’s likely soaked through to the mattress.

“No matter.” Ada casts a drying spell. “I do think we should mirror the intermediary again.”

Hecate is horrendously embarrassed. Not only is she making quite the mess, but she’s officially reached the point of no return. Things are happening whether she wants them to or not. As Ada leaves, she sits with her thoughts. _I shouldn’t have gotten her involved with this at all, it was extremely unprofessional._ Before she has time to consider returning to her room, a surge hits her more powerful than any that had come previous. She finds herself on her hands and knees arching her back to relieve the pressure.

Ada re-enters and joins her on the floor allowing Hecate to shift her weight and rest her head into a pink sweatered shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” Hecate whimpers. “It wasn’t fair to drag you into this.”

Ada whispers into her sweat saturated hair: “Nonsense.”

They sit for a moment, Ada runs her hand down Hecate’s spine, stopping at the base to let an old relief charm flow through her fingers. It’s followed by an elongated respiration into her collarbone. Hecate takes a moment to center herself, then speaks.

“We sing in exaltation to the Goddess...Mother Earth...” She stammers, half forgetting the next line and half to catch her breath. Ada’s had Willow’s poetry memorized for years. She helps Hecate shift her weight to a more comfortable position, then recites the poem for only her to hear. She pauses before the last stanza, overwhelmed with thanks.

“ _Now I sing for thee_  
_because the greatest pleasure,_  
( _mine) is when_  
_your time is spent with me_.”

They are both in agreement of its truth.

Soon there is crying as Hecate collapses into Ada’s arms. The midwife dries off the baby and places her with Hecate. After a moment, the midwife speaks.

“Transport will be here shortly.”

Hecate is filled with exhaustion, and doesn’t process the statement. Ada however…

“They most certainly will not! I will put all of you up for the evening because I can assure you that this child is not leaving school grounds until tomorrow morning.”

“If you insist. I’ll stay for a bit to make sure everyone is healthy, but then I must be going. I’ll postpone transport until morning.”

After the door latches, Hecate strokes the baby’s forehead.

“How beautiful you are…”

Ada shifts to look at them both.

“She takes after her mother.”

They settle into a groggy exhaustion. The baby burbles and sleeps in Hecate’s arms most of the night, while she and Ada stay awake and watch. Neither have slept by the time the sun comes up. The students will return soon, so after fetching breakfast, Ada heads to her office to take care of some last minute paperwork vowing to return as soon as it’s complete.

In the first and final moment of privacy she shares with the baby, Hecate extends a thumb placing it over her daughter’s heart. Starting with a circle as her mother had always done, she draws her family’s alchemic signature. Hecate combines the marks of essence and light with the initials of her mother’s family to create a symbol that’s been emblemized on their grimoire for generations. She adds a slight amount of pressure to her touch, and draws her favorite protective sigil over the signature. It glows for a moment before dissolving into the baby’s body.

“I’m sorry I can’t be with you. May your life be free of misfortune.”

There’s a knock at the door. Hecate knows immediately. Though she’s certain this is the right decision, her heart drops as she lets them into Ada’s room, following them outside.

The intermediaries put the baby in an enchanted traveling compartment. She sleeps soundly as they attach her to the back of their broomsticks. Hecate can’t bring herself to watch them depart.

The return Ada’s room is much longer than she expects, agony growing with each step. Transferring hasn’t even occurred to her until she reaches the door, which is already open. Ada stands in the entrance awaiting her arrival. They don’t exchange a greeting. Instead opting to sit next to each other on the bed. In a rare moment of need Hecate extends her arms, desperate for an embrace.

“It’s alright my love.” Ada holds her, and she finally feels safe enough to shatter.

It most certainly isn’t alright—but maybe it can be.

If they’re together.

. after .

The transition back to regular life is uneventful, save the pangs in her chest which grow further apart with time. Hecate spends her nights with Ada until the girls return, then they decide its best to only meet in the afternoon so they won’t draw suspicion. Even then, free time for both of them is few and far between.

Soon weeks turn to months, and months to years. Occasionally curiosity will get the better of Hecate and she’ll break the code long enough to sneak a quick, mirrored glimpse at her daughter.

One day she watches the girl wiping jam off of her clothes, and something catches her eye.

“A broomstick? Impossible. She could only see one if…”

*

Auburn hair like her father’s in two long plaits. Hecate isn’t surprised to see her in this way at all, so mischievous and unannounced—but she is surprised to see her. Ada grabs her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I have a lot of hope for the year ahead.”

“You say that every year.” Hecate does her best to hide the hitch in her breath, but they both hear it.

“It’ll be good.” Hecate places her hand over her heart and lets out a deep sigh. She has never been that brave, foolish perhaps, but never brave. She watches the two girls amble towards the grounds and crash spectacularly into the pond.

_“I hope you’re right…”_

 


End file.
